


and if the night comes (well at least the war will be over)

by shortitude



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Just...Porn, That is all, missing scene from another fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 15:33:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6525973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortitude/pseuds/shortitude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene from "i guarantee you'll miss me". The good stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and if the night comes (well at least the war will be over)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [semele](https://archiveofourown.org/users/semele/gifts).
  * Inspired by [i guarantee you'll miss me (because you changed the way that you kiss me)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6493921) by [shortitude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortitude/pseuds/shortitude). 



> To **semele** , who apparently wanted to read the makeout-and-porn coda to [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6493921) so much, she got sick so she could ask for it while being a blanket burrito.

It's different, this time. Maybe it's because he starts them off, or maybe they've changed, weathered down by unforgiving weather and necessary companionship. 

No, that's not it. It's different, because she thinks she's fallen in love with him, at this point. There was lying awake at night, thinking that she'd sleep much better if he were in the room with her, like they did during the winter; that was the starting clue. The truth is, after she got the Ark's heating systems up and working, there hadn't been much _need_ for sharing the bed with anyone, but he'd never asked her to leave and she'd never asked him to leave, and the companionship had been the best part of some very hard days, in the end. 

The second clue, that had come while he was away, looking for new places to add to the map, secretly looking for Clarke. She'd felt unsteady for a long time, like there was something throwing her off-balance, and when he'd come back it had all disappeared. No, not even when he'd come back; as soon as he radioed her to let her know of their estimated arrival, she'd felt stable again. 

There are many smaller clues, if she were prone to introspection at this point, but she's too busy. He kisses her.

The world melts away. 

She's too busy to think about why, exactly, she's fallen for Bellamy. The point is, she's here, she cares, and by the way he slides his hand slowly up her back beneath her shirt, she can tell he cares too. 

His hands are gentle, despite their callouses. He gets them up between her shoulder blades, and waits for her faint hum of approval, before he unsnaps her bra open. Blunt nails -- clean, she could tell earlier during dinner that he'd scrubbed himself clean -- run down the length of her spine, making her rise up to her toes in an attempt to get closer. He repeats the motion, and she kisses him just a hint harder, grabs onto his hair and licks into his mouth like she's ravenous. 

She is. 

She hasn't been loved in such a long time, she's understandably hungry. 

But, as he slides one hand around him to cup her breast beneath her bra, she sees that he's just as starved himself. 

A long time ago, she'd fucked Bellamy in his tent to get over something she wasn't ready to get over; it had been the quickest fix she'd been able to think of, and had proven as inefficient as one would assume. The reason for it had been very simple, really; she was a physical creature, with physical needs, yes, but what she'd craved for more than anything at that point had been affection, love. Sex had just offered a placebo effect, gone as soon as it was over. 

Tonight is vastly different. They don't need to hurry through it. He kisses down her neck again, leading them both to the bed they shared for so many nights, and she lets herself be guided, lets herself go, be free, be wanted, be loved. 

She goes down easily when she urges her to, and watches him unbutton her jeans and take off her brace.

"You're quick with that," she points out, a little surprised at the lack of protest or frustration. 

He looks up, smiles, goes back to it; "I watched you take it off long enough. Picked up a few things." Then he kisses her knee, as he takes the brace off, and she regrets not feeling it, but she doesn't regret watching him do it. (He treats her left leg like he does her right leg, like another part of her. She doesn't feel burdened when he does this.) "Besides, it's no rocket science," he mutters, and sets the brace down carefully, before peeling her jeans off. 

"Yeah, rocket science is _easy_." She lifts her hips to help him, and then lets him take over. 

Somewhere in the middle of him undressing her, taking her shirt and her bra off next and getting himself just as naked, it dawns on Raven that they're finally here again. And it's better, it's more profound, it's well-earned through hardships and fire, it makes her feel so strong. 

"Come here," she beckons him quietly, and pulls him on top of her, swallowing his hiss when he presses his hips down against her. He rocks them gently, hums against her mouth, and has to be the one to swallow her moan next. 

"You're - "

"Yeah." She bites at his lower lip briefly, gently, and asks, "please?"

One of his hands rests close to her face, fingertips brushing her cheek and her hair - she carries the imprint of his kisses there, pocketed for later - while the other hand, he moves between them. He has more callouses on his hand now, feels a little rougher, but he's so gentle and she's so wet that when he traces her folds, she melts. When he pushes one finger inside her slowly, holding her gaze, she melts. When he pushes the second one in, curls them both and makes her stomach clench, she melts. 

"Bellamy..." She melts, she melts, she melts. 

He seals his mouth on hers again, and catches all of her gasps. She faintly hears him say _"Good"_ again, before her world shatters and she clamps down around him. Then, his lips on her cheek, his lips on her neck, his lips on her shoulder and the top of her breasts. He sucks his fingers clean as she watches, and pulls himself back up to hover above her, between her legs. 

She grabs for him, needy all over again as soon as he rocks against her, hard and hot and a little heavy. She wraps her arms around his waist, digs her fingers into his shoulders, and holds her breath as he adjusts himself and pushes in. If she lets out a guttural sort of soft sigh, if it sounds a little wet, he drowns it out with his shaky groan. 

After the calm, the storm. 

She scratches down his back, he rocks into her so hard that he makes her move further up against the mattress, until she has to reach up and press her palm between her head and the headboard of the bed, because they're on a roll, they're on the best rhythm ever. She laughs his worried expression away, he kisses her through another orgasm, and follows, pliant and easy. 

He melts. She melted. 

They regain human shape, human conscience, human thoughts, and reach for each other, moving until they're back in the same position they've slept in for three months. 

"I missed this," he says, more like he's admitting it to himself than to her; he has to reconcile with this too, she guesses, has to come to terms with the fact that he wants, and he needs, and he has so much he can give. She's ready to take it all. 

With a kiss to his knuckles, she finally falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> will i ever NOT use Stars lyrics as titles? 8-ball says "not likely".


End file.
